


Just Wrong Enough (to Make It Feel Right)

by Linsky



Series: Wolfverse [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Established Relationship, Lactation Kink, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, wolf babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny knows it’s not okay to be turned on by this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Wrong Enough (to Make It Feel Right)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thundersquall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundersquall/gifts).



> Written for Sheena, because she finished her beautiful slave fic!
> 
> It’s what it says on the tin, people. If lactation kink is not for you, this will probably not be your story. Also, it may be rather inaccurate, to which I say: wolf anatomy! /waves hands :D

Back in December, when Jonny had to leave the babies and Patrick for the first time, he thought it would be easier once Patrick could travel with him. Once he wouldn’t have to leave Patrick, too.

Turns out he didn’t really think it through.

Jonny doesn’t like being unhappy himself. Seeing Patrick unhappy, though…

“Molly and Kayla are awesome with them,” Jonny says to him on the bus to the hotel in Vancouver. Patrick’s been on a couple of road trips already, but just to Detroit and Columbus; they weren’t even overnights. This is different. This is nine days, and their babies are in the hands of people who aren’t them. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Patrick says, but if the way he’s twisting his hands didn’t give him away, the anxiety seeping across the bond would do it.

Jonny feels his own stomach knotting with it. It’s so hard to sit here and do nothing, when Patrick’s anxious like this: he keeps having to fight the urge to take Patrick in his arms and run away with him, hide him somewhere and run soothing hands over his skin, find the source of the problem and change it so that Patrick never has to feel bad again.

Unfortunately, there’s not a lot Jonny can do to change the hockey schedule so that all of their games are at home.

He can soothe, though. It’s just about all he can do.

He puts his hands on Patrick’s and eases them apart. Then he takes the left one and starts rubbing deep circles into the base of the palm until Patrick visibly relaxes. His breathing starts to even out.

Okay. Maybe it’s a good thing, having Patrick here, if Jonny can do this for him.

“It’s just, we should be there with them, you know?” Patrick says in a small voice.

“I know,” Jonny says. He knows so very well. He’s been fighting it for over a month now: the bone-deep feeling that he’s in the wrong place every time he’s on the road. That his place is wherever Patrick and the babies are. And he thought it would be better once he at least had Patrick with him, but now—now the babies are back there with _people who are not them,_ and every time he thinks about it, it sends a spike of alarm through him.

He can’t have that. Not when he’s next to Patrick, close enough that his emotions could bleed through. It’s one of the things he’s had to adjust to about having a wolf bond: that he isn’t just responsible for his own emotions anymore. If he wants Patrick to be calm, he has to be calm himself.

Fortunately, having Patrick this close to him, touching his skin, does do a lot towards making Jonny calm.

Jonny never thought of himself a scent-focused person before. He was never super into how his past girlfriends smelled, or anything. But now—Patrick’s scent is one of the first things he notices every time they’re close. He breathes it in, and it changes things inside of him. He’s tried to describe it to himself, and it always sounds dumb, but it’s like something inside him clicks into place. Like there’s a thud of everything falling into alignment. _Thud_ —the world is the way it’s supposed to be.

It’s the same feeling he gets now when he holds one of the babies. His stomach clenches again, and he leans in and buries his nose in Patrick’s hair and breathes deep.

“We’ll be back with them soon,” he whispers, and Patrick slumps against him with a sigh. 

***

They Skype with Molly and Kayla before taking their pre-game nap. The girls are on joint duty right now—they take turns at night, usually, and when Patrick and Jonny are in town—and they’re sitting on the couch with the three babies in their laps. It looks so cozy, and Jonny wants to be there so badly.

At least he’s used to this. Patrick—Patrick looks like he’s trying not to cry.

Patrick’s hand is pressing against the screen of the iPad, like that will let him get closer. “Hey, loves,” he says to the babies, and the crack in his voice makes Jonny hurt. “Are you being good for Aunt Molly and Aunt Kayla?”

The babies twist a little on the screen, waving their arms. “They’re confused,” Jonny reminds Patrick in a low voice. “They can’t focus on the screen, remember? They just hear your voice and don’t know where you are.”

Jackie starts to cry, and Molly cradles her to her chest. “They’ve been very good,” she says to Jonny and Patrick. “Just missing their daddy and papa.”

“I bet,” Jonny says, because it looks like Patrick’s too choked up to say anything.

They talk for a few more minutes—mostly Jonny and Molly and Kayla, because Patrick’s too busy staring at the babies to contribute. Jonny moves closer to him so that he’s snug against his side, and he feels Patrick’s muscles relax a little at the contact, but the expression on his face doesn’t get any better.

When the call is over, turns and takes Patrick in his arms. Patrick presses his face into Jonny’s neck. “I didn’t know this would be so hard,” he mumbles into Jonny’s skin.

“I did,” Jonny says, and Patrick snorts.

Jonny moves one hand up to the back of Patrick’s neck and grips. It’s the kind of firm pressure he would use in a massage, but not moving: just a constant, steady hold. He keeps his hand there until Patrick’s muscles go lax and he finally straightens up.

“Thanks,” he says softly, because for some reason he still thinks that Jonny deserves thanks for dealing with his feelings. As if Jonny doesn’t count himself lucky to do so.

“We’ll be back before we know it,” Jonny says, and if it’s a lie, at least it’s a hopeful one.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, forlorn. Then, making a face, “Ugh. And now I’ve soaked through my shirt.”

Jonny darts his eyes down. There are two little wet spots on Patrick’s shirt, one over each of his nipples.

The sight hits him like a slug of heat to the gut. He can see the outline of the erect nipples through the wet cloth, like the cloth’s been painted on. There’s just a hint of pinkness there, through the white of the shirt, and—and, oh, more liquid is seeping out; Jonny can see the wet spot growing, and…

Yeah. He should have expected this to be a problem.

“Fuck, I was hoping it would at least keep till dinnertime,” Patrick says. “But I guess the sight of the babies set me off.” He pokes at one of his nipples, and Jonny’s dick twitches in his pants.

Okay. That’s his cue to move before Patrick can notice his reaction. “Better, uh, change before nap,” he says as he gets up and heads to the bathroom.

“Better pump before nap, you mean,” Patrick says.

Jonny makes a noncommittal sound and fiddles around with the free hotel toiletries. That’s good—this will all get easier when Patrick starts to pump. There’s nothing very sexy about the sight of a breast pump. Jonny just has to hang out in here for a couple of minutes, kill enough time.

When he comes out, though, it’s obvious he misjudged it. Patrick has his shirt off, but the breast pump is nowhere in sight yet, and he’s poking at one of his swollen nipples.

It’s huge and raised and pink on the surface of his pec. There’s a little bit of white liquid dribbling out of it. Jonny stands in the doorway and swallows and bites his lip and feels blood thrumming where it really shouldn’t be thrumming right now.

“I guess it was too much to hope that I wouldn’t produce milk as fast as the babies have been drinking it,” Patrick says. He squeezes the nipple a little, and more spurts out, and fuck, Jonny can’t tear his eyes away.

He’s pretty sure he’s not imagining how much bigger Patrick’s nipples have gotten since the babies were born. They weren’t small before or anything—Jonny has _lots_ of pleasant memories of them before—but now they’re huge, swollen and plump all the time, and Jonny can’t stop staring at them whenever Patrick’s shirt is off. He keeps having to wrench his eyes away from them in the locker room to avoid anything embarrassing happening, and then having to sit down because it’s too late and something embarrassing is happening anyway.

He knows this isn’t normal. He knows it’s not _okay._ And it’s not like he thinks Patrick’s nipples are hot while the babies are sucking on them. It’s just…in isolation. They’re so big, and tender-looking, and flushed this pink that looks like it would be warm to the touch, and they’re _leaking_ …

He’s staring again, and he shakes his head to clear it. He…needs to go somewhere else.

He turns to walk across the room, away from the nipples, and then Patrick makes a little considering sound and Jonny walks right into the TV cabinet.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Patrick asks.

“Um, yeah,” Jonny says, once he’s finished swearing and rubbing the spot on his thigh. He turns to look at Patrick, who’s still shirtless on the bed, nipples obscenely red against his pecs and shiny with milk. He’s not going to say anything, but—“Does it hurt?”

Patrick frowns. “How should I know? It’s your leg.”

“No, I mean.” Jonny waves a hand at Patrick’s chest, and then wishes he hadn’t. He can feel the heat rising in his face. “Does it. When—when they’re like that.”

“Oh! No, not really,” Patrick says. “I think some women get nipple chafing? But wolves are designed to have a lot of kids at once, so.”

“Oh.” Jonny watches Patrick run a finger carelessly over a nipple. His tongue feels too big for his mouth.

“I thought you knew that,” Patrick says with a grin. “I mean, not like you’ve been laying off them.”

“Right.” Jonny hasn’t been. But he’s only been using his fingers, he’s been really careful about that, because otherwise he might be tempted to—

“Guess I’d better take care of this,” Patrick says, getting up to get the breast pump, and Jonny just can’t anymore.

“What does it taste like?” he says, and then cringes.

Patrick looks at him in surprise. “I…don’t know? It’s milk, man.”

“I just thought…maybe you’d tried it.” But of course he hasn’t. That would be weird. Jonny’s eyes drop again, without his volition, to rest on the shiny red buds.

They must be pretty full, by now. They’re probably aching a little. He bets they’d be really tender, if…if someone pressed on them, or sucked on them…

“Holy shit,” Patrick says. “You’re totally getting turned on by this, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” Jonny says immediately. But he doesn’t have to look down to know the way his cock is tenting his pants.

“You totally are,” Patrick says delightedly, and Jonny’s cheeks are blazing hot. He is going to get chirped for this forever. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbles, turning away. He wonders what his options are for escaping the room right now. Just until Patrick’s done pumping, and his chest is back to normal, and they can curl up together for their nap. Just until Jonny’s cheeks stop burning and he can pretend this never happened.

“So, you want to taste?” Patrick asks.

Jonny’s head snaps around. “W-what?”

Patrick smirks at him. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back on his hands, legs splayed in front of him. It pushes his nipples up, peaked and obvious. “I said,” he says, voice dropping, “do you want to taste?”

Jonny’s stomach lurches, and his mouth waters. He studies Patrick’s face: the sparkle in his blue eyes, a little bit mocking, but not cruel. The way his lips are parted, his tongue running over the bottom one. “Um,” Jonny says, but who is he kidding—he’s already drifting towards the bed, unable to stop himself.

Patrick’s nipples are still dribbling slightly onto his chest, leaving sticky streaks of milk below them. Jonny’s head is spinning. He kneels between Patrick’s legs and touches his thumb to one of the shiny buds.

Patrick hisses.

“Oh,” Jonny says. His breath is coming fast and light. He circles his thumb around the nipple. He’s had his fingers on them before when they’ve been slick, during sex, when he’s pretended not to notice, but he’s never let himself really look.

He massages the swollen nub, and more liquid trickles out. “Can I—”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, voice breathy. Jonny leans in and touches his tongue to it.

Oh. The milk is light and sweet, warm from being inside Patrick’s body. The taste sends a flush of heat through Jonny’s stomach and groin. He laps at it, scraping his tongue against the nipple for the way it makes Patrick’s breath come more harshly. Then he closes his mouth around it and sucks.

“Ah!” Patrick says, arching into it. Jonny holds the swollen nub between his lips and sucks down the hot sweet milk. It comes so easily: there for the taking, filling his mouth and making him swallow greedily. His cock is throbbing in time with the bursts of it on his tongue. He scrapes the nipple with his teeth in between mouthfuls, and Patrick claps a hand to the back of his head to hold him there.

When he finally comes up for air, Patrick’s looking at him with wide eyes, breath shaky. Like he’s surprised, like he didn’t expect—

“Fuck, Pat,” Jonny says, voice hoarse. “It’s like—it’s like your chest is coming.”

Patrick whimpers and closes his eyes. His nipple is still dribbling, shiny and red where Jonny had his mouth on it. “Will you do—”

“Yeah,” Jonny says, and he can hear his own breath loud in his ears as he moves over to the other nipple.

This time Patrick’s hand is on his head right away, fingers digging urgently into his scalp. The pressure sends shivers down Jonny’s spine while he fastens his mouth over the nipple and sucks. He gets his hand on the other one and massages, pinching it between his fingers so that the milk runs down over his hand.

Patrick’s chest is heaving under his mouth and fingers. “Oh fuck, Jonny, that feels,” he says, and Jonny gives a particularly hard suck and feels the jerk as Patrick’s hips give an aborted thrust against nothing.

He pulls back and looks at Patrick’s nipples, both shiny with spit and milk now. He blows cool air over the one he was sucking, and Patrick shivers.

Jonny’s cock is so hard he could hit a puck with it. “Do you want…”

“Fucking hell, Jonny, of course,” Patrick says, and starts scrambling with his pants.

Jonny gets his own shirt off and then gets distracted by the milk dribbling down Patrick’s chest. It’s below his belly button now, which means that if it keeps going, it’ll reach…

He runs his fingers through the trails of milk and then brings them down to rub against Patrick’s cock.

Patrick gives a cry and throws his head back. His cock is swollen and angry-red, jutting out toward Jonny as Jonny paints it with the slick milk. There’s pre-come pooling at the tip of it, and Jonny gets that, too, mixes them together and drags it down Patrick’s cock.

Fuck, he can barely breathe at the sight. He dips his head down and licks.

The pre-come is salty and sharp, and mixed with the milk it hits Jonny low in the gut. He sucks, not just to bring Patrick pleasure, but also because he wants more of it, of the taste. Is desperate for more. Patrick groans and threads his fingers through Jonny’s hair.

There’s a nudge at the corner of his lips, and when he opens to it, the fresh taste of milk fills his mouth. It’s Patrick’s finger, coated in it and feeding it to him alongside his cock.

Jonny moans and sucks harder. Patrick’s making little gasping noises above him, and Jonny finds one of his nipples by feel and pulls on it to make the gasps louder, until finally Patrick says, “Jonny, Jonny, you have to stop—”

Jonny pulls back, breath heaving in his chest and lips sticky with milk, and he looks up at Patrick’s flushed cheeks and parted lips. He’s panting. “You have to fuck me now,” Patrick says, and Jonny scrambles up to get a condom.

When he gets to their bags and turns around, Patrick’s spread out on the bed, lying back and pulling on his nipples. Jonny’s stomach lurches like he’s at the top of a roller coaster. “No far doing that without me,” he says, a little breathily, and Patrick gives him a lazy grin that gets broken by a moan when he twists a nipple.

“Fuck,” Jonny says, and starts searching faster, until he finds their toiletry kit, and then he stumbles back across the room, tripping over his pants as he pulls them off.

“Come on, Jonny, I’m waiting,” Patrick murmurs, arching his back and rubbing into his nipples. “I’m so wet all over…”

Jonny can barely keep his fingers steady to roll the condom on. He can’t get his eyes off of Patrick’s fingers pressing against his reddened nipples, and his cock standing up all shiny with spit and milk, and then Patrick lifts his knees to show him his hole, wet with slick dripping out of it.

“Oh fucking hell,” Jonny says, and he dives down onto his knees and buries his face in Patrick’s ass.

He groans as soon as he tastes the slick. He’s so hungry for it: he always loves it, always wants the taste and feel of it on his tongue, but right now he feels a hard edge of desperation for it just like he does for Patrick’s milk and come. He licks in frantically, feeling the walls of Patrick’s hole flutter and give under his tongue.

“Yeah, like that,” Patrick says above him, voice strangled, and Jonny shoves a finger in alongside his tongue and feels Patrick’s moan vibrate through the walls of his hole.

He never has any trouble finding Patrick’s prostate anymore. He can tell instantly when he’s touched it because of the way Patrick’s muscles all go a little shaky and everything gets slicker. He brushes it lightly, two fingers crooked against it, for the way Patrick whines, and then he pulls away.

“Fucking tease, Jonny,” Patrick says, but Jonny just gets a last tongueful of slick and raises his head.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says.

Patrick’s lying limp and droopy-eyed on the sheets. His nipples are leaking like fucking taps. He nods.

Those nipples. They’re. Jonny has to bend his head and lick away all the milk and rough his tongue over them again until Patrick is squirming.

“Ride me,” Jonny says between tongue strokes. “Ride me and I can suck—”

“Yes,” Patrick says, a drawn-out whimper, and they get him positioned across Jonny’s lap and Jonny holds his cock while Patrick sinks down on it.

It’s crazy how much Jonny wants to fuck Patrick all the time. When they first got together, he thought it would fade: that it was the honeymoon period or whatever, and he’d go back to a normal sex drive after a few weeks. But it’s over a year and three babies later and still, every time he sees Patrick, something zings inside him and he wants his cock buried in that ass. It’s what he’d do for most of the day, if he could.

Patrick’s ass closes around his cock now, and the noise Patrick makes is obscene and animal. Jonny has to close his eyes against the noise and the feel of that slick hole swallowing him in, but then he opens them again because Patrick’s nipples are right there, full and bitten and making Jonny’s cock throb inside his hole.

He leans in and noses at one of them. “God, you’re so full,” he whispers. “So full of milk for our pups—”

Patrick moans.

“So—” Jonny closes his mouth around one of the stiff peaks and sucks, at the same time that he rolls his hips to thrust his cock deeper into Patrick. He runs his hands down Patrick’s muscled sides to cup his ass. “So fucking _fertile.”_

“Yeah,” Patrick gasps, and he fucks himself down on Jonny’s cock as Jonny gives a few more shallow thrusts.

“You want me to come in you?” Jonny asks. He barely recognizes his own voice for how low and gravely it’s gotten. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yeaaaah,” Patrick says, and it’s more of a wail than a word. He speeds up, rolling his hips as Jonny’s jerk up helplessly to sink his cock into that slick ass. “Fill me up, _Jonny,_ fill my belly up with your come and your babies—”

Jonny’s next thrust is more of a spasm, and he’s not going to last, not with Patrick saying things like that. Not when he can remember how hot it was to watch Patrick’s belly swell, big and round and full with their babies inside of him; not when Patrick’s pecs are right there, nipples so swollen they’re dripping. Jonny gets his mouth on one and worries it with his teeth, fucking _bites_ so that Patrick keens, and then he closes his lips around it and sucks, sucks, sucks, drinking down the milk like he’ll never get enough, while he fucks his cock up into Patrick’s hole.

“Oh my God, Jonny,” Patrick moans, and he pins Jonny’s head in place over his nipple as if there’s any danger of Jonny moving away. Jonny’s abs are burning from the force of thrusting while keeping his mouth on that hot little bud, but no way in hell is he giving this up. The milk runs hot down his throat and makes his belly boil. His cock feels like it’s on fire, like—like he could burst through the condom and make Patrick pregnant right now, send his come shooting way up deep inside Patrick’s fertile channel where it belongs—

“Jonny, I’m gonna,” Patrick says, and his hole is clenching down in a wave around Jonny’s cock, and he throws his head back and arches as his come splashes hot on Jonny’s abs, and his _milk actually comes faster,_ a burst that really is like his chest coming, his nipples coming down Jonny’s throat, and Jonny is done for. He sucks hard, greedy, desperate, and pistons his hips and feels his come shoot inside Patrick, and for one hot wild moment he can imagine that he’s actually doing it, actually making Patrick pregnant.

Patrick is limp in his arms, collapsing forward against him as Jonny’s orgasm finishes racing through him. “Jonny,” he whispers. “Fuck, Jonny.”

Jonny’s hands are stroking along his back. It takes him a moment to even realize he’s doing it: instinctively petting Patrick, long, soothing strokes, helping him come down.

Patrick pulls back a little and looks down into Jonny’s face. He looks dazed, pupils blown wide against blue. “That was…”

Jonny flicks his eyes down to his chest. The nipple he was biting looks red and sore, and the other is still full, milk trickling out. Jonny raises his eyes again, meets Patrick’s, and then slowly and deliberately leans in and starts sucking the milk steadily out of the other one.

Patrick moans, low and long. The milk is soothing now as it pours down Jonny’s throat, but he can feel the tenseness in Patrick’s muscles. His cock is still in Patrick’s ass, softening, and Patrick gives little twitches around it.

Jonny keeps sucking, and he can feel Patrick’s body coming alive again around him. His breathing is getting ragged again, speeding up as Jonny sucks. His fingers flutter against Jonny’s shoulders, and he arches into Jonny’s mouth. His hips jerk a little like he’s trying to thrust against something. Finally he says, voice broken, “Jonny, I can’t…you have to…”

Jonny works a hand between their bodies and closes it around Patrick’s cock, full and hard in his hand. Patrick keens and thrusts into his hand.

There’s no way Jonny could be hard again, so soon. But then, he’s not an omega wolf.

He’s surrounded by the sounds and motions and smell of Patrick’s growing arousal as he keeps sucking down his milk. Patrick’s cock is already wet with come, so Jonny slides his fist up and down it easily as Patrick jerks helplessly. His ass is a little too tight as it clenches around Jonny’s spent cock, but Jonny doesn’t care. He’s lost in this as much as Patrick is: in the little hitches of his breath, in the moans his gives as his control slips away, in the way fresh bursts of slick leak from his hole as everything gets hot and hazy and wet.

Jonny sucks extra hard, moans against Patrick’s skin, and that does it: Patrick is falling apart again, come slicking Jonny’s hand, and Jonny gets that extra burst of milk that he swallows greedily.

Patrick’s limp and panting again. Jonny pulls away from his chest. “Good?” he whispers against Patrick’s sweaty temple.

“Oh my God,” Patrick says weakly. He lets Jonny take care of the condom, and then he collapses onto his side against the pillows. Jonny crawls up next to him and cradles his head in his hands and gives him slow, sleepy kisses.

“That wasn’t too weird?” he asks he asks after a few minutes.

Patrick gives him a look—as much as he can when he’s that fucked out, anyway. “Did I seem like I thought it was weird?”

“No, but.” Jonny rubs a hand over Patrick’s belly, then realizes what he’s doing, leaves it there anyway. Presses into the taut muscle that he wants to imagine swollen and round again. “I just want you to know that I don’t—I mean, when it’s the babies doing it, I don’t get—”

“Duh,” Patrick says softly. “Do you think I get turned on when the babies are nursing?” He gets his teeth on Jonny’s ear and tugs a little. “It’s different with you,” he whispers into the ear. “Because you’re my mate.”

Jonny shivers all down through his belly and lower, where things are already warm and loose from coming. He moves his hands up, thumbs at Patrick’s nipples again.

Patrick’s eyes flutter shut. “Stop,” he says, halfway to a moan. “Do you want me to get going again?”

Jonny feels like he really wouldn’t mind—but they have a game in a few hours. “I guess we should probably nap.”

“Mm,” Patrick says, snuggling closer. “But later,” he murmurs, tone smug and sleepy. “Later I’ll be full of milk again, and we’ll probably have to do something about it.”

Jonny licks his lips. He can hardly wait.


End file.
